


Light You Up, Put You On Top

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Christmas Dinner, Edgeplay, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Naked Female Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Sex, Teasing, Vanilla Kink, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Dinner was always little different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light You Up, Put You On Top

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'vanilla kink". Title from Christmas Tree by Lady GaGa.

James left the door a moment, even though ignoring it made him itch. It wouldn’t do to have her think he’d been waiting by it, not after their little... rough patch. When enough time had passed, he swung the door open, spreading his arms as if seeing her was the most pleasant surprise. “Ah, Elizabeth!”

She gave him that look, the one that said she knew he hadn’t really forgotten how many times she’d told that wasn’t her name anymore but he refused to amend it. She would always be his Elizabeth. 

“James,” she greeted him with her usual frosty civility and the barely veiled roll of her eyes. “I thought we agreed after last year, no fuzzy sweaters.”

James grinned down at the offending item, effervescently pleased she had noticed. “’It is the season.”

“Quite.” She laid her hand where she was used to finding his lapel, pushing him away from the door so she could enter. 

“What do you think?” James said, waving his hand over the stately table, every inch of it filled with serving platters and candles. “Miss Evers has outdone herself, don’t you think?”

“Lovely but I don’t eat,” she reminded him, keeping her hand on his chest, pushing him past the table, barely sparing it a glance.

“The tree then? Tell me that is not the most grandiose tree you’ve seen...”

“I don’t care about the tree, Jimmy,” she said, placing a finger to her lips and walking him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed, forcing him to sit. 

“I got you a present?” he offered but she shook her head, kissing him hard, effectively shutting him up.

“Keep it,” she dismissed, pulling back, straddling his lap. “I give you one night a year to have me as your wife again. Do not waste it with trinkets and baubles.”

James nodded obediently, tilting his head back to look at her, asking for another kiss but she only smiled, pushing him so he was on his back before crawling off him again. “Don’t worry, Jimmy, darling, you’ll have your kiss under the mistletoe.”

Slipping open the buttons on his perfectly pressed dress trousers, she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, pulling him free and kissing along it delicately, stroking over the head with her thumb. “See, now isn’t that better?”

James nodded, straining to watch her as she settled herself on her knees at the edge of his bed, smoothing her dress in a way that made it look elegant and effortless. He honestly loved her, even as he saw a flicker of the creature she had become as she bent her head down and hungrily took his cock all the way in. Her tongue danced over the underside as she sucked, making quick work of bringing him right to the edge, only to pull back and smile up at him victoriously, again and again. He knew what she was doing. She was trying to break him.

They had certain rules about this night. There would be no murder, no blood, no violence, not even a bad word said. No pleasure derived from such things tonight. For one night, she had to be human and he’d have to be as close as he could get to it too. They would fuck as though it were the first time, all over again. He wouldn’t tear her pretty dress and she wouldn’t strike him. They wouldn’t talk about their latest conquests and kills. She would pretend she loved him and he would pretend he believed her. There was no exchange of power in that, only the surrender of it. And while he liked his Elizabeth as she would be tonight, he knew the Countess was still just under the surface, edging him, testing him, getting her power the only way that wasn’t against the rules.

“That’s quite enough, darling, or the festivities will be over before they’ve begun,” he said at last, when he couldn’t take one more second of her teasing, thrilling though it was.

“Shame,” Elizabeth said, rising up on her knees and pressing the backs of her fingers to her lips, her lipstick still remarkable perfect. “I was enjoying myself.”

Sitting up, he offered her a hand up off the floor. “Hmm, I rather believe you were but that is not our arrangement.”

“Would you complain if it were?” she asked, raising her eyebrow as she stood, keeping her hand in his for a moment longer than was perhaps necessary.

“Yes, I think I would,” James said with an admonishing look, keeping all the things he could say locked behind a civil tongue. “You are my wife, after all.”

“For tonight,” she agreed as she stood before him, unzipping her own dress and letting it fall naturally around her feet, leaving nothing but bare skin in its wake, enjoying the showmanship she put into such a simple act.

“For tonight,” he repeated for her benefit, reaching out and stroking over her skin, remembering when it used to see sunlight. 

Taking his hand, she placed it on her breast, squeezing his hand under hers. “You know as well as I that I am not made of glass.”

“One wonders,” he said with a grin, slipping his hand out from under hers and sliding it up to her neck, cupping her jaw and kissing her on his terms, light and gentle, keeping the romance and the mystery in it. A proper, old fashioned kiss. The type that seduced her when they were first married.

“I disrobed,” Elizabeth said when they parted, stroking over his chest again. “It’s only fair this goes, at the very least.”

“Humbug,” he muttered under his breath but did as she asked, pulling the jumper over his head, his shirt crumpled but thankfully still the same shirt she’d seen him in since the day he’d died.

When the sweater hit the floor, she inclined her head in thanks and kneeled on the edge of the bed, straddling his lap again, her bare skin on his freshly laundered clothes, pulling the creases out of his shirt. It was open at the neck where he’d forgone his cravat, the collar only half folded after the removal of his sweater. Fondly she straightened the collar and kissed the skin under it. “Whatever would Hazel say?”

“I fear I could not tell you, she has a preternatural obsession with... that best not talked about in the presence of a lady,” James said with an attempt at discretion that he knew wouldn’t work on her.

“If I see a lady, I will let you know,” Elizabeth countered, tilting his head back and keeping her lips barely a breath from his until he talked.

“She would want you to make a fine mess of me, I’m sure,” James admitted, coming almost close to a blush himself.

“She’ll be pleased then, when I’m done with you,” Elizabeth assured him, grinding her hips against him as she closed the gap between them, kissing him deeply.

“Exceedingly,” James said against her lips, lying back on the bed and pulling her down with him, kissing her with an increased fervor until she finally reached down and stroked over his cock again, this time to guide it inside her.

Elizabeth moaned as she sank down onto his cock, hands braced on his chest, giving him that same victorious look. The one that told him, in case he wasn’t perfectly aware, that she had him wrapped around her little finger. Well, wrapped around her something, at least. He was definitely that. Oh yes.

Moving slowly, luxuriating in teasing touches, every so often she clenched around his cock, dragging each roll of her hips out for as long as possible but still keeping him dangerously close to the edge, doing her utmost to keep him quiet for another year. He didn’t suffer quiet easily. Neither did she, really. He knew she only did this because she liked having him adore her; worship her for the other fifty one weeks of the year. He didn’t mind all that much, really. It was worth it to see her like this, head thrown back as she finally rode him properly, taking pleasure from his body that he was only too pleased to give, the inverse of his usual, non-marital relations. 

She surprised him when she took his hand and laid it over her cunt, giving him permission to touch, to involve himself in her orgasm. Not wasting a second, he stroked over her clit, keeping time with the insistent rocking of her hips, faster and harder until her head fell forward again, her face obscured by her mess of blonde waves as she came but he’d seen it enough times to know what to imagine, what to think about as she finally let him come inside her, stroking encouragingly over his jaw and neck with her nails until that small pressure was all he could feel.

He knew by Christmas morning she’d be gone, back to the land of the living and her chosen ones but for a few sweet moments longer, as she collapsed down into his waiting arms, he could have his wife back.

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


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